Chapter Six
Justine awoke and cursed the hotel for doing construction on a Sunday morning. It wasn’t until she rolled over and sunlight seared her eyes that she realized the obnoxious jackhammer pounded inside her skull. She sat up in bed with a moan. She’d slept on the covers, wearing her bra and panties. Avoiding further thought, which would probably hurt, she rolled off the bed and stood on legs that wobbled.
In the bathroom, she slapped at the switch. “Dim, dim, dim…damn you.” After adjusting the lights, she turned the shower to hot, stripped down, and stepped inside. The stinging water pelted her skin until she started to feel slightly human again.
Memories from last night raced through her mind; champagne, hiding in the library. She hissed when the ride back to the hotel cut through the fog in her brain. She couldn’t remember climbing onto Sawyer’s lap, but she’d ended up there. The water sluiced over her skin while she forced herself to relive the humiliation from last night. What had come over her? She scrubbed her body with vigor, considering the champagne.
She wasn’t an innocent teen at her first party. She’d had champagne before. One glass? No way she’d be knocked flat from one glass.
Puzzling it over in her mind, she shut the water off. But then, what? Her mother’s voice echoed in her brain, reminding her for the thousandth time to never accept a drink at a party she didn’t get for herself.
Disgust slithered through her and she threw herself to the floor, kneeling before the toilet, before she retched up everything. The cramping in her stomach mercifully blotted out any thought until she had nothing left. She pushed herself up, legs trembling.
In the mirror over the sink her face, blotchy and red, startled her. Tears streaked down both cheeks. Struggling to empty her mind, she wet a thick rag in cool water and pressed it against her face until she could be sure she wouldn’t vomit again.
Oh, God, she had to regain control of this, everything. First thing? She had to go explain to Sawyer why she’d been so uninhibited. The white bathrobe on a hook by the door seemed as much effort as she could manage. She shrugged into it and knotted the belt. It took her a moment to remember Sawyer’s room number as she slipped the keycard into her front pocket. He was on the same floor, down the hall.
In a bathrobe with dripping wet hair, she counted the room numbers. She passed it once and had to double-back. When she found it, she tapped on the door, throwing glances over her shoulder for stray paparazzi out to catch her in the humiliating moment.
After what seemed like forever, Sawyer flung open the door causing her to forget the whole speech she’d worked up in her head. He wore a pair of jeans; zipped, but not buttoned. Even his feet were bare. She had to drag her gaze up to his face, away from the hair that continued below the waistband of his jeans.
“What?” He scowled at her, looking more hung-over than she did.
Definitely not having this discussion in the hall, Justine pushed past him into the room, an exact replica of her own. “I came to apologize. About last night.”
“Yeah, no problem. Don’t worry about it.” His arms crossed a chest chiseled with muscle as he waited by the still open door.
“But I am worried. I didn’t drink much of anything last night, except that single glass of champagne.”
“Yeah, so maybe champagne hits you hard.” He spoke in low tones, mumbling.
“Not that hard. I think Travis put something in my drink.”
“Are you…you’re serious?”
“Why are we whispering?” She looked around the suite. He’d closed the bedroom door, but her stomach sank when she spotted the teensy yellow dress draped across the couch. It was none of her business. “Oh.”
Neither of them spoke until Justine’s feet decided to work again. “I’m going. Sorry for the…everything.” She rushed down the hall, clutching at the knot of her robe.
In her own suite again, she slammed the door and flopped onto the leather couch. How could she have been so stupid? God, she’d thrown herself at him. Apparently climbed onto his lap, and since he obviously wasn’t celibate, he didn’t have a problem sleeping with a total stranger. The only logical conclusion was he wasn’t interested in her.
An insistent pounding began at her door. If she ignored it, maybe it would stop.
Except, it didn’t.
“What?” She screamed from the couch. “I have a headache. And I’m an idiot. So…” She stormed to the door and slung it open, winding down. “Just go away.”
Sawyer had pulled on a t-shirt but still no shoes, and he tilted his head to look at her. Sorry I wanted to have sex with anyone but you. At least that’s what he said in her head.
“What do you want?” She was not going to act like she cared. She didn’t care.
Not to mention that after being roofied, she was entitled to a bad day.
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to see you.”
He rolled his eyes and walked past her, into the suite. Tears sprang up to compound her humiliation. Misunderstanding why she shielded her eyes from him, he pulled the blinds to cut down the sunlight. “Does that help?”
“I was intoxicated. I don’t want to sleep with you.”
A grunt of surprise slipped out. “Okay.”
“I just, you know, I don’t care. That you slept with somebody else. I don’t care.” In a heap near the door lay the offensive black dress from last night. She snatched it up and, like a shield, clutched the dress in a ball in front of her.
“Good.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Checking on you.”
She tossed the dress into a waste can and rummaged through drawers until she found a book of matches. Ignoring Sawyer, she walked out onto the stone terrace, where cold wind whipped at her wet hair. Her hands shook when she struggled to pull a match free and strike it on the back. After a few tries, it flared and the satisfying scent of sulfur burned her nose. “Go to hell.” She flicked a glance at him and then back to the dress.
“What are you doing?”
“I am ridding the world of evil, one slutty dress at a time.” The flames devoured her dress, weaving thick ribbons of black smoke upward. “Why are you here?”
“I said I’d watch out for you.” He stalked out on the terrace and snuffed out the remains of the burnt dress. “You said to make sure nothing happened to you.”
“Well, you suck at it.” The eight hundred dollar, hand-beaded dress smoldered. And stunk. Justine covered her mouth.
“I got you out of there last night without you making a complete ass of yourself, didn’t I?”
“True. I only made a partial ass of myself.”
“And you’re blaming me for that?”
“No. I don’t know.” She plopped down on the couch because she didn’t want to be anywhere near him. She hated herself. And that stupid dress. “Why did I take that glass? That’s what they tell you, from the time you’re like twelve, don’t take drinks from men you don’t trust. Who forgets that? It’s like the Russian roulette of bad shit that can happen to women.”
He sat down on the table in front of her, and the worry on his face had her insides going inappropriately gooey.
“I don’t want to talk to you about this, it’s too humiliating.” God. He had this concerned look, which she sure as hell hadn’t ever seen before, and he looked so good. The jeans taut on his thighs, the tee stretched across his chest. Why didn’t he go away? She could handle him being hot when he was an ass. But not like this. This made her feel like a loser.
“Why are you blaming yourself?” He reached over to tuck her hair behind her ear.
“You’re going to think I’m an idiot.” She laughed, familiar bitterness creeping in. “Because your opinion of me is so high now.”
“Don’t, don’t do that.”
Now he was being kind to her, and she was going to cry. She swiped at her eyes. “Remember on the plane, I told you I’d dated that disgusting snake?”
He gave a nod.
“We broke up because he didn’t want me leaving for college. We broke up because he completely freaked out about it. He yelled at me, called me names. And then he came to visit me at my mom’s, to apologize. But he ended up throwing things and yelled some more. He broke a glass in his hand. Then he stood there, bleeding all over himself and the floor…it was everywhere.
“How can you forget that someone is essentially disturbed? How can you do that and accept a drink from the same man? That’s like helping Ted Bundy move his couch after he shows you his knife collection.” She swiped her hand across her nose.
“I’m so sorry.” The look in his eyes was more than regret about last night. That look was more: sorry about your shitty life.
“Forget it.” She threw her hands up, her cheeks flaming. Sweet was bad enough, pity was humiliating. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
All that. She’d told him all that, thrown herself at him last night and now he felt sorry for her. Her stomach twisted and she wondered for a moment if she was going to be sick again.
“You okay, by yourself, for a while?” He bolted off the table.
Relief washed over her and she made a shooing motion with her hands. “I’ll be perfect by myself. I’d prefer to be by myself.”
“I’ll be back.” He pulled the door shut with a resounding thud.
With a deep breath, she dialed her father’s number and waited while the housekeeper fetched him. “Daddy?”
“Justine? How did the party go? Did you have a good time?”
“No, not really. I need to tell you something.”
“All right. Is something wrong?”
She swallowed back the bile fighting to break free and cleared her throat. Nervous, she gnawed at a hangnail. “Travis did something to me.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’m certain he spiked my drink last night.”
“Last night, you…were with him?”
“He gave me a drink at the party. Then I got disoriented, but Sawyer found me and brought me back to the hotel.”
Her father’s voice rose sharply. “Did something happen between you two?”
“No. Daddy, listen to me.” She sighed. “Nothing happened last night, but it could have. Would have, if Sawyer hadn’t found me.” Ugh. This had nothing to do with Sawyer.
“Isn’t it possible that you’re reading too much into this?”
“No. That’s what happened. What do you want me to do, take a blood test?”
“Absolutely not. I want you to come home safe, get some rest, and we’ll talk about this later.”
She let the phone slip into the cradle. A weight pressed into her chest making breathing a conscious effort. Her father thought she was crazy. If it didn’t fit into his view of the world, he dismissed it. He dismissed her.
****
A cold veil of rage blotted out everything and Sawyer headed up one floor to Travis’s room—five- zero-seven. He remembered from check-in yesterday.
He rapped on the door, but Travis was either sleeping deeply or ignoring him.
He thought for a minute. Whoever was on duty downstairs could possibly be convinced to open the door. Barring that, he’d kick the damn thing in.
First, he went back to his own room, glancing at the dress on the couch with a dose of regret. He slipped on his shoes and took off for the elevator.
At the desk in the main lobby, Sawyer cleared his throat and smiled. The manager on duty was young, and his eyes shifted around, like a big predator might walk out of the office and try to eat him.
His smile at Sawyer was there and gone, more like a nervous tic than a greeting. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Yeah, I hope so. You remember the guy I came in with? Well, you may know him, Montgomery-Chase, the TV people? He’s Chase. Anyway, he’s a little too friendly with the bottle sometimes, especially on Saturday nights. What is it about Saturday night and drunks, right?”
The manager’s head bobbed up and down in agreement, but he frowned.
“So, thing is, he’s not answering his door. And I’m worried about him. Do you think you could open up his room, let me make sure he’s okay?”
The manager recoiled. “Oh, no, sir. I’m sorry, but that’s against hotel policy.”
“Yeah, I kind of figured.” Giving off the vibe of sharing top-secret information, Sawyer leaned into him. “Listen, I’m going to give you fair warning here, buddy. If some rich, famous guy dies in your hotel, drowned in his own puke… Well, the press ain’t going to be good. And the smell. That kind of smell never really goes away.” When Sawyer eyed the lobby with suspicion, the hotel manager did the same. “Not to mention the lawsuit. Do you know how many lawyers a rich guy owns? A lot. His estate will be climbing all over this place.”
“Oh. Well.” The manager signaled for the bellhop. He punched in several numbers on his computer, slid a key card through the reader, and handed it over to the young bellhop. “Go upstairs and let this gentleman into room five-zero-seven. Hurry.”
Sawyer followed the kid upstairs. Once the door was opened, he slipped a hundred dollar bill into the bellhop’s hand with a handshake. “I’ve got it from here. Thanks a lot.”
The kid tipped his hat at Sawyer and left.
Inside the suite, Travis snored loudly, sprawled across the bed. Sawyer planted his foot in Travis’s middle and kicked him. With a thump, Travis tumbled to the floor, banging his head on the nightstand along the way.
Bloodshot eyes peered at Sawyer over the side of the mattress. “What the hell? What happened?”
“What happened, you disgusting piece of shit? You had me bring her here so you could drug her and what? She’d be too out of it to realize her sudden interest in you had come from a pill?” Sawyer stormed around the bed and grabbed Travis by the hair, yanking him up. “That’s rape, you bastard.”
Travis jerked his head to free himself. “No, I—” He stopped himself, panting. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, well, Justine does.” Sawyer pushed Travis away from him.
“If you touched her—”
“I don’t have sex with women who don’t know what the hell they’re doing.”
Travis took a small step forward. “Don’t think I can’t tell what’s going on in that little brain of yours.”
Sawyer punched him in the face before he could think and shoved him against the wall before he could fall. It took everything in Sawyer not to kick the shit out of him. “If you ever try to hurt her again, I will break both of your arms.” With every sentence, Sawyer shoved Travis against the wall, and his head bounced. “You look at me, and you see how easy that would be, how much I’d fucking enjoy it. Are we clear?”
Travis grumbled, “I got it.”
Sawyer released him and took a step back. “Good.”
The phone rang in Sawyer’s pocket, and he took it out, never taking his eyes off Travis. “Yeah?”
“Sawyer, it’s Daniel. Where are you?”
“I’m in Travis’s room.”
“Good, Justine called. She’s very upset.”
“I know. I managed to not beat the hell out of him, but I can take care of that now, if you want.”
“No, no. Don’t do anything. Go check on Justine, make sure she gets home. I want you and Travis in my office first thing in the morning.”
“Whatever, you’re the boss.” He ended the call and relayed the message. Travis cupped his nose, blood trickling through his fingers.
Sawyer pointed at him, walking backward. “Remember what I said.” He stormed out of the room headed for his own.
Inside, he found the blonde actress he’d brought back with him last night. She smiled, sleep in her eyes, when he woke her up. “Time to go, sunshine.”
She sat up, and the sheet slid to her waist. He turned away, throwing his things into his suitcase. “I hate to rush you, but I’ve got to head out.”
The blonde, he had no idea what her name was, didn’t care, pouted at him. “So soon?”
“Yeah. Tell you what. I’ve got some things to take care of. You can shower, whatever, and I’ll come back after you’re gone.”
“You son-of-a-bitch.”
Sawyer stared at his crap. “Yeah,” he agreed. And the S.O.B. inside of him tried to appreciate that this would no doubt get Justine out of his office and his life. It worried him, though, that he couldn’t find any satisfaction in that.
****
By the time Sawyer returned, Justine was busy planning the quickest route home where she could lock the door behind her. She let him in without a word and pulled her robe tighter. “Where’d you go?”
“Nowhere. Are you feeling okay? Hungry?”
“Definitely not hungry. I have a headache.”
“I’ll try to scrounge up some aspirin for you.” He crossed to the phone taking quick, careful glances at her. “Anything else?”
She hated when people did that, when they pretended nothing happened, all the while looking at her like she might pull out a rifle and scout a nearby tower. “So, wow. I was slutty last night.”
He blinked at her. She’d rather shock him into speechlessness than have him hovering around, acting like she was too emotionally delicate to be left alone. God, she’d weathered a much worse sexual misconduct crisis than this.
The fluffy, pristine robe covered her, neck to ankle. She might as well be naked. Clothing and a form of transportation that didn’t involve Travis topped her to-do list. At the bedroom door, she paused. “A plane ticket.”
“I’m not following.”
“You asked if you could get me anything. I need a plane ticket. I’m not sitting in the equivalent of a tin can with Travis. All I’ll hear is how wrong I am. And I’m not wrong.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“There’s a credit card in my bag, emergency stash. Front pocket.”
“I said I’d take care of it, Justine. Go get dressed.”
Closed up in the bedroom, she ran a frustrated hand through her hair and examined it in the mirror. Since she’d left it to air dry, curls floated to her waist.
She squinted her eyes to peer at her lips. Was that a bruise? Or a cut? She sucked in, remembering the kiss on the way home, when Sawyer had nibbled enthusiastically on her bottom lip. He’d marked her. God, that man could kiss.
Tossing a pair of jeans and a simple white blouse to the side, she threw the rest in the suitcase. She slipped into her clothes and ran a comb through her hair, pulling it up into a messy bun. The whole time she nibbled on her lip. She could taste the place on her mouth where he’d scraped and tugged with his teeth.
While she applied lip gloss and mascara, the intoxicating scent of coffee beckoned her from the living room. He must’ve had some brought up.
She opened the bedroom door to the sunlight, still brilliant, filtering through the closed blinds at his back. He waited by the window until she’d poured herself a cup, adding a dollop of cream, and swallowed the aspirin before he spoke. “You shocked me a minute ago, with the whole slutty thing. You’re good at that.”
“Being slutty?”
“Shocking me. But that? Don’t do that again.”
“What?” She peered into her coffee, avoiding his gaze.
“Call yourself that. I think you’re right about Travis—”
“I am right.”
“You keep beating yourself up, but the fact that your inhibitions checked out for the night isn’t your fault. Besides, I’m going to have to take a few hits myself, you weren’t alone in that car, and at least you have an excuse.”
Carefully, she set the coffee on the table. “You know what the problem is? In the last twenty-four hours, I have tried to seduce you and been shot down, I shared my disastrous relationship story and, oh, the best part, you saw me almost naked.”
“That was the best part.” When she only glared at him, he went on. “Why is that a problem?”
“Oh, come on. We need to even the playing field. Tell me something humiliating.” She added, “About you. God, don’t tell me anything else I may have done that I can’t remember.”
He snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No. Seriously, you’ve got this look in your eyes. This ‘poor, pathetic Justine’ look, and I need it to go away. So tell.”
Sawyer settled on the arm of the chair, his arms crossed in front of him, and stared at the carpet. He seemed to hesitate, so long she was sure he’d clammed up.
“All right.” He met her gaze and the space between them sizzled. “I’ve been distracted, since I walked into your father’s office and saw you sitting there. The thing about your walk? There’s nothing wrong with your walk, except it makes me a little crazy. And the hair? Makes me want to drag you into bed.”
He stood, unfolded his arms and took a step closer. “I keep trying different things to make you go away. Not you. These things I want to do to you. Nothing seems to work. That help?”
She struggled to breathe like a normal person. Her breath quickened to an embarrassing degree. He wanted her. What might happen if she closed the distance and let her hands explore his body? The idea made her dizzy. “I don’t think so.”
Turning back to the window, he jammed his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.”
“Don’t say that. I feel less pathetic now. But I feel more of the wanting. Which would be bad… So exquisitely bad.” Her face flamed, and she went on, trying to fix it. “I mean bad for us. For me. And for you, too. There’s not an us.” She clamped her lips shut and forced herself to stop babbling.
“Yeah.” He looked around the room. “Plane leaves in a couple of hours. I’ll get us a car.”
“I can get to the airport on my own.”
“I’m taking you home.”
Her head bobbed, trying to swallow around the lump in her throat. “Okay. That’s not going to be awkward.”
Sawyer mumbled something about packing and she nodded. “Sawyer?”
He was almost out the door, making his escape, but he shut it behind him. “Yeah?”
“What you said, if that’s true, then why…why go find the girl with the tiny dress?”
“Seriously? Let’s see…you were drunk. Out of it, whatever. And you know, you don’t shit where you eat.”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t have meaningless sex with a person you have to work with every day.”
“That’s what you call it?” God, he was like a roller coaster. And he was wrong. This wasn’t random and trivial.
“Yeah, yeah… I’ve already been told how it sounds. It’s still true.”
“No.” He was right; they were never going to be together. Their respective positions in life, their differences, and her father. It couldn’t work. Still, this attraction overshadowed every other one she’d ever experienced. She crossed to him and tilted her head up, because she needed to see his reaction. “Maybe you did it because it wouldn’t have been meaningless.”
His eyes widened as the walls went up inside him, his eyes becoming shuttered. It was so fast that if she hadn’t watched for it, she’d never have noticed, and then he smirked at her. “I don’t think so, princess.”
“I’m going to kiss you again.”
“What?”
“I’m going to kiss you. Right now. Because this feels huge and…meaningful.”
He didn’t make a move, stood frozen by the door. She should’ve been scared, but she wasn’t because she needed to know. Her lips parted, and she lifted herself on her toes to brush her lips to his. His breath washed over her, and she lowered her eyes, concentrating, not letting their bodies touch anywhere else. Then she closed her eyes and gave herself to it.
His teeth caught her bottom lip and sucked gently. Explosions rocked her deep inside. Bells, sirens, fireworks, everything she’d ever read about happened in that moment.
When she stepped back, he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Then he swiped a hand across his lips and was gone again, the door closing a little too hard in his haste.
Justine sucked in air with the feeling that she hadn’t breathed at all for the last five minutes. What the hell had she been thinking? She’d known her attraction was huge. Too huge to play with, to walk right up to the edge and flirt with the line she’d be crazy to cross. She ignored it for a week, while she acted like a girl with a crush trying to get his attention. Ignored it this morning, when everything inside of her cried out for him.
She shouldn’t have kissed him, it only confirmed the oh-my-god incredible thing that happened whenever he touched her. This kiss now made the decision before her mean too much. How could she go to her father and make the right choice? All she wanted was to run away. Or run closer, play with the fire just a bit. How did she manage to make a disaster of everything she tried to do?